The griffon stood tall, a stained and tattered flag of the Griffon Kingdom draped over his back. Scars of a thousand battles and duels criss-crossed his coat, at times ugly and prominent, and at others barely hidden beneath the rich brown-grey plumage of his chest. He barely flinched as the wall directly in front of him exploded outwards, scattering rubble and detritus all around him. In response, he simply took two steps backwards, deliberately positioning himself between the figure emerging from the smoke and the doors to his back.
“Stand aside, griffon. Your invasion is in tatters, your forces routed,” said the figure, as she emerged from the smoke and dust, her wings flaring wide, and her horn still alight with the golden light she was so famed for.
“Indeed they are, and in the final hours of the conflict, here comes Princess Celestia, She Who Raises The Sun and Vanquisher of Discord,” began the griffon, “And yet here I stand, between you and my king.”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed beneath her flowing mane. There was no trace of fear in the griffon’s voice, nor his stance.
“You are either very brave, or very stupid to stand where you are, griffon. Move,” stated Celestia, “ or I shall obliterate you where you stand.”
“Meteor,” said the griffon, drawing a slight start from Celestia, “My name is Meteor, if you were wondering. General Meteor, if you wish to have rank involved in this. And brave? Perhaps, perhaps. Stupid, now that, I most definitely am. And yet...”
“And yet, you will refuse to move,” finished Celestia, as Meteor nodded, “but tell me this, General. Why have you not retreated with the rest of your kin to safety? Are you so loyal to your king that you would throw your life away in an attempt to save his?”
“I stand here not because of my king, the fool that he is. I advised against this war. I counselled him hundreds of times that going to war against Equestria would only end in our defeat. But the king is young, and has many young supporters. And like all of our young, it does not take much to stoke dreams of glory and honour in their heads,” spat out Meteor, his beak clicking in his anger, and his talons rapping on the earth beneath him. Meteor sighed. “And yet...”
“And yet.” Agreed Celestia, sensing what the old griffon general was getting at. The griffons were a highly militaristic culture, not unlike the pegasi used to be. Obsessed with honour and pride and trained almost from birth, war and death was close enough to all a griffon learnt. It was as much their innate talent as her ponies was cooperation.
“So,” said Celestia, “I now seek the griffon behind those doors. You will not move, though I do not believe that I understand the reason why. We are at an impasse, then.”
“So it would seem, She Who Raises The Sun. So it would seem,” uttered Meteor, sitting down, and the flag draped over him shifted down slightly, and he took a moment to readjust it.
“Interesting. A griffon would have attacked then,” said Meteor, looking at Celestia, who had not moved from her original position, though her wings had folded in against her sides, and her horn glow had dissipated.
“Then it is fortunate for you, General, that I am not a griffon.”
At this, Meteor let out a short, sharp bark that initially caused Celestia to tense up, fearing that it was the signal for a surprise attack, but she relaxed when she realised that Meteor was laughing.
“Fortunate, indeed. Your race has always fascinated me, She Who Raises The Sun. Even when I was a chick, fresh from the egg and hot-headed, I found you ponies a curious bunch. You seem soft, and weak, with your ideals of cooperation and togetherness, but yet when challenged, you reveal that that this outward perception is only concealing a core of steel. It is both humorous and inspiring. And yet, here we stand.”
“And yet, here we stand,” agreed Celestia, allowing herself to relax once more, certain that the griffon was not going to attack. If he wanted to, Celestia was certain that he could have already. Rank in the Griffon army was determined by fighting ability, and Meteor had given his rank as ‘General’. He would be a difficult opponent, as age and experience would make him crafty and canny. Younger griffons tended to be more rash, and it was that which got many of them killed in the earlier rushes, and allow her ponies to turn the tide of war.
“This dammed war will not be good for our people, though I do hope that it had the fortune to wipe out the true idiots among us,” muttered Meteor, easing himself back onto all fours, reaching over and adjusting the flag on his back with his beak again, “with any luck, future generations will learn from this horrible mistake.”
“General, a question,” at Meteors’ nod, Celestia continued, “if not for your king, why do you stand in my way? You could simply step aside, and I would spare you while I dealt with your king. You could even assume his position should you choose. I have no doubt that you could lead the Griffons away from the path of constant war. You are strong enough that none would disrespect you, so why do you stand ‘twix me and my goal?”
For a reply, Meteor pulled on the flag resting over his back, and spread his single remaining wing, the other being a stump of long healed scar tissue.
“Look at me, She Who Raises the Sun. Does my figure inspire respect? I am a griffon without the gift of flight. I am what the young chicks would undoubtedly call a brutum fulmen-a cloud without thunder, a harmless threat. You must have some inkling as to how I am treated.”
Celestia nodded, “May I ask, though, how you lost your wing?”
Meteor’s beak curved up into a savage smile that made twisted Celestia’s stomach into uncomfortable knots, and she was suddenly reminded of the fact that griffons were carnivores.
“It was many years ago, now. Shortly after I was given the rank of general, some young fool chick thought he was better than I was. He challenged me, and in my overconfidence, he managed to steal my wing. I removed his throat and feasted on his liver.” As Meteor spoke, his talons tightened in the earth, as if closing around an imaginary opponent’s throat.
“And yet?” prompted Celestia, sensing there was more to the story.
“And yet,” sighed Meteor, letting his talons relax, “The damage was done. I was a griffon without flight, barely a griffon at all. I think that perhaps that was the fool’s entire purpose. Removing a griffon’s wing; I would imagine that you could begin to take a guess as to how that, how I, was received afterwards.” At Celestia’s nod, Meteor continued. “My rank was still mine, as was my command, thanks to connections among the Royal Family, but I was more or less persona non grata. My honour, my respect had gone. And so, here I stand, casting off all ties to my kingdom, in the vain hope that I may claim what I lost all those years ago back.”
Celestia’s eyes widened as she realised what Meteor was saying. The griffon took a deep breath, and spoke.
“If you want to get to my king, fool and deserving of your wrath that he is, you must go through me, She Who Raises The Sun. Allow an old soldier one last chance to redeem himself. One last fight to reclaim my honour, and then I can be satisfied.”
Celestia was silent for a while, and then her horn lit up. Meteor braced for the oncoming storm of magic, but instead only saw the Griffon flag levitate over to Celestia, and bind one wing to her side.
“If I am going to fight you, Meteor, it will be as your equal. You have proven that perhaps not all the griffons believe that war is the only way forwards. It may take me ten years, it may take ten thousand, but I will see that one day, Griffons everywhere will look back at this event and see that war is not the way forwards, and that General Meteor was right.”
“She Who Raises The Sun; morituri te salutamus,” said Meteor, throwing one of his talons up into a salute. Celestia could find no fear, nor anything but the purest respect and thanks in the old griffon’s eyes. Celestia returned the gesture by bowing her head, with her eyes closed in the traditional Unicorn manner. When she looked up, Meteor was still standing there, waiting for her.
And then, he charged, a roar tearing itself from his throat and out of his beak.
****
Celestia’s heavy breathing and the gentle dripping of blood onto the earth below were the only things that she could hear once everything stopped moving. She felt her chest heaving, the sting of where the griffon’s talons had raked along her exposed neck and underside and watched as the blood of Meteor pooled around her hooves, and stared down at the leaking corpse that had been the most noble griffon she had ever met.
“Victis honor, Meteor. Your honour is reclaimed,” she whispered to the cooling body, “and by my honour as ruler of Equestria and Avatar of the Sun, I vow that one day, what I told you will come to pass.”
And with that, Celestia steadied herself, and blew open the doors to where the Griffon King was seated.
*****
Celestia turned to leave after the Griffon King had agreed to her terms of surrender, and paused as she caught sight of the body out in the outer room.
“There is one last thing I would have from you, Regis.”
“What? Anything!” whimpered the King from behind the ruins of his throne.
“General Meteor. I wish to accord him the respect he deserves.”
“Of course, of course!” whined King Regis, “We’ll have him given the finest funeral the Griffons can muster!”
“You misunderstand me. I want to bury him not as a subject of the Griffon Kingdom...but as a subject of the Equestrian Diarchy. In his last moments, Meteor renounced all loyalty to the Kingdom.” The Kings’ eyes went wide with shock, but Celestia pressed on, “He fought me, not because he was trying to stop me, nor even because it was in his blood to do so. He fought because he believed that he had to reclaim his honour, because he knew that he was going to die, and wanted to do so satisfied, and not have to witness another war for pointless reasons. In all my many years, King, I have met so-called ‘noble’ and ‘honourable’ griffons that were less noble and honourable than General Meteor. He will be interred as an Equestrian subject, perhaps in our capital of Canterlot. This is not up for debate, King,” said Celestia, as the griffon looked ready to interrupt, “It will happen, whether you like it or not.” And with that, Celestia walked out to the outer chamber, gingerly lifting the cold and broken body of general Meteor off the ground, and walking out of the building. Luna fell into step beside her moments later, breaking off from where she had been tending to the injured.
“Sister, we are not sure about this plan of yours to declare this griffon an Equestrian hero. Many ponies are still mourning their loved ones. It will likely not be taken well.”
“His name, Luna, is Meteor. He was a worthy opponent, but more than that, he believed that there was a better way. He fought against his orders, his King and his country and at the end, he discarded them all so that he would not have to witness any more, and could pass on with a clear mind and heart.”
Luna was silent for a while, as the two kept walking, weaving their way among the bedraggled and wounded soldiers.
“We understand, sister. We shall make preparations for the funeral,” said Luna, beginning to turn away.
“Luna?” called Celestia, “What was the old Pegasus tradition for honouring worthy foes?”
Luna paused for a while, wracking her brain for the answer.
“They named them ‘Alicorns’, Celestia,” she answered, moments later, and Celestia nodded.
“Then let us honour General Meteor with the same. General Meteor, the One-Winged Alicorn.”
The Latin:
brutum fulmen: harmless thunderbolt (A vain and empty threat)
persona non grata: Unwelcome, unaccepted person
morituri te salutamus: We who are about to die salute you
Victis honor: Honour to the vanquished
Author's Note
Inspired by the TMP prompt #547. the prompt was 'One Winged Alicorn'. I thought that this story would not be best served by a mere 30 minute short, and it expanded into this.
